


milk and black spiders

by stilinskitrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bellarke, F/M, Flashbacks, Lots of Angst, Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: So Bellamy let her in to his home; the stranger he hadn't seen in three years. The woman who had been someone he would put before his own needs again and again and again just three years ago, without hesitation. The same woman who had left him.Three years.He let her back in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> note: ages messed around with e.g. 2 years between Bellamy and Clarke instead of like...5  
> i started this at like 2 i the morning and now im continuing it bc i kinda like it so im sorry if it's actually awful lol  
> title by the song with the same name by Foals!  
> more tags to be added.  
> catch me on tumblr! stacygwehn.tumblr.com

_Oh, I know you're still with me,_

_You, my compass and my sea._

 

If Bellamy sat through one more episode of Jersey Shore, he was sure he'd go insane. How could a person create so much drama? How could Octavia be so entertained by such rubbish? He was lounging on the biggest sofa in their cramped apartment, attempting to distract himself with the latest book he'd been assigned for his Classics Doctorate. But it was just a  _ tad  _ difficult to concentrate on the history of Ancient Athens when high pitched voices on the TV were shouting about some drama or other. Octavia was chuckling along; Bellamy hated reality shows because they were superficial and stupid, Octavia loved reality shows  _ because  _ they were superficial and stupid.

It was raining hard outside, and the siblings were wrapped up in several old blankets, complimented with big mugs of hot chocolate. Despite the noise from the TV destroying Bellamy’s brain cells, he felt reasonably content. He’d invited Monty and some other friends over later on in the evening for drinks and movies, and he didn't have work or college the next day. 

The atmosphere of relative peace was disrupted at around eight in the evening by an abrupt knocking at the door.

Octavia checked her phone. “Can't be the guys. Too early.” she dismissed, turning her attention back to the TV. She was now watching a rerun of one of the Real Housewives series, where several white women with blonde hair were attempting to square up to each other. 

Bellamy frowned; it  _ was _ too early. Shrugging on the sweater he’d left on the other side of the couch, he made his way to the door (which was in the same room as the living room - it was a small apartment.)

Upon first opening the door, he could only make out a figure. He was suddenly reminded to get the light outside their door fixed at some point. The figure was drenched, with long, wet strands of hair obscuring their face, and clothes sticking to their skin. They stood there, shivering on his doorstep. Bellamy didn't move.

“Can I help you?” He eventually asked, feeling wary of the figure.

The figure raised a hand to brush away the hair from in front of their face. “I know I shouldn't be here.” Bellamy was just squinting his eyes harder to make out their face when the stranger spoke, and Bellamy’s heart seemed to jump out of his chest. His breathing stopped, because he'd know that voice anywhere.  _ Her _ voice. He was frozen to his own front doorway, trying to regain control of his thoughts and emotions when she began talking again. “I know you don't want to see me. At least, I can't imagine you would. But, I-I, don't really have anywhere else to go.”

He couldn't miss the quiver in her voice, the way it broke as she tried to make up an excuse for the fact that she needed help. Bellamy had heard that vulnerability in her voice only a small number of times. She’d come to  _ him _ of all people. She was on  _ his _ doorstep, vulnerable and asking for help. She’d thought of  _ him _ . After years of silence, he imagined she’d moved on. It was easier to imagine that. But she’d sought him out, remembered where his apartment was, remembered the roads of the city he hadn’t seen her in for months upon months.. He knew he was keeping her out in the rain as he tried to process all of this, and he was aware of Octavia’s attention being stolen away from the TV so that she could stare at the drenched ghost in their doorway.

So Bellamy let her in to his home; the stranger he hadn't seen in three years. The woman who had been someone he would put before his own needs again and again and again just three years ago, without hesitation. The same woman who had left him.

Three years.

He let her back in.

__  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke Griffin sat on his couch; a ghost of her former self, and a ghost in Bellamy’s life. Octavia had made her a cup of tea, which Clarke was clutching despite the scalding temperature of the mug. No one said anything. Not that Bellamy could even fathom anything to say. Or at least, what to say first.

 

_ Where were you? Why did you leave? How could you leave? Did you miss me? Why are you back?  _

 

_ Will you leave again? _

 

Each one held an answer Bellamy didn't think he could handle. 

 

He had loved her, so much. Bellamy had given everything to her; his princess, his high school sweetheart, his best friend, his closest ally. And she'd still left him.

 

“So, Clarke,” Octavia broke the silence, unafraid to face confrontation as she always was. He couldn't forget that Octavia had loved Clarke too. She’d taken her disappearance in a different way to her brother, because Octavia was all anger and fire in a way that couldn't be hidden. She was a fire that burned out of control. After a few months, she couldn't even mention Clarke’s name without pulling a sour face or spitting flames. “What brings you to our humble abode? Just passing by? Dropping in?” Bellamy could feel the poison in her words, and watched as Clarke’s eyes flitted to the floor, avoiding their gazes.

 

“I really don't know where to start.” 

 

Even hearing Clarke’s voice made Bellamy’s body weak. It had been so long, he was so starved of her, and now she was right in front of him. He’d spent two years trying to squash all empathy and love and consideration for her, and she could just waltz back in here and reignite everything Bellamy had worked towards. It infuriated Bellamy in a way that made him nearly as angry as when she'd first left.

 

“The beginning. Preferably.” Octavia offered with a bite. 

 

“I-”

 

The door rang.

 

“Fuck.” Bellamy hissed, feeling Clarke’s eyes on him. “That'll be everyone for movie night.”

 

“Everyone?” Clarke said meekly. She had somehow managed to look even paler, looking between the Blake siblings frantically.

 

“Relax, Princess.” Where was he getting the courage to speak to her like this from? “We’ll send them home.”

 

“Yeah, cause the world revolves around Princess Clarke.” Octavia gave the blonde a sharp, forced smile.

 

Jasper, Monty, Raven and Miller all stood huddled under one umbrella on the doorstep, grinning and shivering. 

 

“Let us in, O’ Gatekeeper. Food and shelter for our finest goat?” Jasper exclaimed, indicating to Monty.

 

“Hey!” he protested, but the smile on his face didn't seem offended. “But seriously. Let us in, please.”

 

Bellamy hated lying to his friends. He hated lying in any situation, because he’d never liked the idea of being seen as a coward, as pompous as that sounded, and lying seemed a cowards way out. The four of them had all known Clarke, and Bellamy wouldn't even have known Raven Reyes without Clarke’s interference. 

 

“I'm sorry, guys. We’re going to have to reschedule. I would've called you sooner but-”

 

Jasper frowned, “Nonsense! You're clearly not busy.” He declared, barging his way into the apartment and leading the way for the others to intrude. Bellamy didn't have enough time to stop them before he heard a resounding “What the fuck” from the quartet.

 

Silence.

 

Octavia seemed amused, in a wicked sort of way. “Hey guys, have you met our guest?”

 

“Fuck off.” Jasper gasped.

 

Bellamy watched as Raven’s face contorted in anger. Miller just seemed shocked, staring at Clarke as if he may be able to see through her and discover she were only a hologram. Monty looked sad, his eyebrows creased.

 

“Listen, you have to go.” Bellamy insisted, placing a hand on Jasper and Monty’s shoulders and trying to usher them back to the front door. “Please.”

 

Clarke looked ashamed.  _ She should,  _ Bellamy caught himself thinking bitterly, trying to stop feeling pained by her dejectedness. 

 

No need for Raven Reyes to be escorted out; one moment she was staring at her blonde best friend from the past, the next she was storming back outside, straight into the rain. The others followed reluctantly, and Bellamy promised half heartedly to talk to them soon.

 

Once the door was closed, Bellamy anchored himself to it. This was a good distance. He had an obscured view of Clarke, but was close enough to still hear Octavia’s relentless interrogation of her. 

 

“Look, O, maybe she should get some rest.”

 

Octavia scoffed. “Yeah, Bell? In who's bed?”

 

“She can sleep in mine.” Bellamy could hear Clarke’s voice in his head.  _ She? Who am I? The cat’s mother?  _ But the Clarke that sat on his couch was silent. 

 

His sister rose abruptly, “Fine. Your funeral.” And then she was gone. Her bedroom door slammed after her, shaking the picture frames on the walls.

 

Bellamy cleared his throat, approaching her warily. “You, uh, remember where it is?”

 

Clarke nodded slowly, her eyes slowly reaching his. Her gaze was still too painful and he looked away before he found himself saying more than he should, settling on turning off the TV that O had left playing. 

 

“Okay, well, go ahead. I’ll sleep on the couch. You can sleep in one of my old tshirts, or whatever.”

 

She didn't argue. She only nodded. 

 

And Bellamy made himself comfortable on the bigger couch in their tiny apartment like he had been only half an hour before, and tried not to think about waking up in the morning to Clarke having disappeared again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading ! <3 u can follow my tumblr, noahfcsters !! come talk to/stalk/etc me :))


	3. Chapter 3

She was still there in the morning. He knew because he heard her throwing up in the bathroom whilst he and Octavia were having a particularly quiet breakfast. His sister threw him a look that involved a raised eyebrow and a dubious frown. Bellamy tried not to think about it. He’d check on her later.

 

Octavia went off to work around one in the afternoon. Clarke still hadn't emerged. Maybe she was as scared as Bellamy was. Or maybe she was just feeling guilty.

 

He couldn't concentrate. Over the past few months he'd have liked to think he'd come to terms with her never coming back. Now everything was fucked. She was back, but nothing was the same; nothing was right. She wasn't _Clarke_.

 

At half one he knocked on the bedroom door, and cracked it open a fraction so h could see her sleeping still. Her wet clothes lay on the floor, and he gathered them up to wash. He tried not to notice how she looked whilst sleeping - tried not to remember waking up beside her.

 

At half two he decided to make some lunch. He made sandwiches, hating the way his mind still remembered her eating habits and how she liked things. He’d instinctively made her a crunchy peanut butter sandwich on wholemeal bread, because she thought white bread was over processed and gross and smooth peanut butter was inferior to crunchy. Bellamy stared at the sandwich. Maybe he should make it again. Was it lame if he gave it to her? If he showed her how he remembered everything?

 

After a ten minute internal conflict, he ate the sandwich for himself and made her a cheese and ham one, because he knew she didn't mind them. But it was no peanut butter sandwich.

 

When he entered his bedroom the second time, she was sat up in bed, staring at the parallel wall. Above a thrifted chest of draws were various photo frames of different sizes. Photos of Bellamy and Octavia, photos of his mother, their friends, important events like graduation, baby pictures and old pets. Bellamy had erased all the memories of Clarke, except the aforementioned high school graduation photo, where she had her arm slung around his neck, and his arm snaked around her waist. Bellamy had skipped two days worth of lectures to attend her graduation, and spend some extra time with her.

 

Bellamy set the sandwich down on the bedside table. “Are you okay?” Stupid question.

 

She rubbed her eyes, nodding feebly. Her hair had gone curly from the rain. A large tshirt of his hung off her small frame. It was an almost familiar image, from what seemed like a distant life.

 

“Please don't lie to me.” He asked, a soft plead as he took a set on the edge of the bed.

 

“Thank you for the sandwich.” She said as she attempted a smile. “I like what you've done with the place.”

 

 

Bellamy frowned.

 

“You've rearranged. I like the mirror. And I always said you had too many pictures of me. Made me seem vane.” Clarke chuckled lightly, but Bellamy just stared at her.

 

“You left me.” He hadn't meant to say it out loud. But he'd been thinking it all night and all morning. Her face crumbled as soon as the words left his mouth.

 

She looked down at her hands. “I know.”

 

“You threw us away.” He was accusatory, but his tone was still soft. Bellamy was trying to keep himself together, trying not to lash out without the full story. “Why?”

 

“I didn't want to.” Clarke was crying; she was trying not to show it, but her voice cracked and her eyes welled up.

 

“Yeah, but you did.”

 

“Bell, I want to explain everything to you.”

 

Only Octavia and Clarke ever called him Bell, and now it hurt him coming from her lips when it had used to warm him.

 

“Then do.” He could feel himself edge closer to her. “Please.” _Don't beg_.

 

“I can't.”

 

Bellamy wrapped his fists up in the bedsheets.

 

“Why the fuck not?” _Stop swearing_.

 

Clarke wiped her face of tears, sniffling and keeping her eyes on the photographs.

 

“Bell, please-”

 

“Don't call me that. I can’t listen to you calling me that.”

 

The phone began to ring in the living room. Neither of them spoke.

 

“I’ll be out of your hair by this evening.” She said suddenly, attempting to sound neutral and assertive.

 

Bellamy scoffed, “The fuck you will.”

 

“You can't hold me here, Bellamy.” She snapped.

 

“I won’t lose you again.” _Don't cry_. He couldn't sit there anymore. Abruptly, Bellamy made for the door, only to be stopped by Clarke jumping out of bed.

 

She reached out her hand, wrapping her fingers around Bellamy’s loosely in a gesture that Bellamy wasn't entirely trusting of.

 

“I missed you.” She whispered, searching his face for a reaction.

 

_Don't make me say it. If I say anything else, I’ll say something I regret._

 

Bellamy slowly pulled his hand from her grasp, closing the door on his way out.


	4. Chapter 4

“How's Princess Clarke?” 

 

Octavia threw her bag down on the kitchen counter, twirling her set of keys around her finger absently. Bellamy had been sat on the couch ever since he left his bedroom. He hadn't heard a peep from her, and had been vaguely watching a rerun of Friends on their pitifully small TV. He didn't give her a response.

 

“That bad, huh?” She flopped herself down beside her brother, running a hand through his unbrushed locks. 

 

“She said she’d leave tonight.”

 

“Like hell she will.” Octavia scoffed, grabbing the remote from him and echoing what Bellamy had told Clarke upon her proposal to leave. “She’ll come around to us soon. There has to be some reason she turned up here after all this time. I doubt she’ll leave without telling us. It's rude.” she said matter-of-factly, flicking through the channels.

 

Just the knowledge that Clarke was a few feet away after so long was making Bellamy stressed and restless. His sister was dealing with it the way she knew best; anger and sarcasm and being passive aggressive. Bellamy’s coping mechanisms were, for lack of other words, fucked. Right now, he was overwhelmed with panic and frustration and a detestable sliver of hope. He took a walk.

 

They’d started dating in the summer after Clarke’s Senior year, whilst Bellamy was in his second year of studying Classics at college. It was a community college, one close to home that allowed him to stay in the apartment they’d ‘inherited’ from their mother, and look after Octavia. And it was cheap. 

 

If it weren’t for his sister’s remarkable way of acquiring friends, he wouldn’t have met Clarke. The three of them had been friends since the start of Octavia and Clarke’s Freshman year, where they’d acted like Yin and Yang in most of their classes. Clarke was democratic; Octavia was chaotic.

 

Clarke coming over to study once a week turned into sleepovers that lasted the whole weekend, which then turned into times where Clarke would turn up on their doorstep with her bag packed and to stay the week. She hardly elaborated on her home life, just that her mother was a “controlling bitch” and her father a “complacent pushover”, resulting in many brief stays away from home. And her friendship with Bellamy morphed from awkward passings by on the way to the bathroom, to seeking comfort in him when her childhood friend was found dead.

 

The pair of them had always been stubborn. Their friendship became something more only when Clarke had pushed Bellamy into a corner after a particularly packed and drunken night out with the gang. She’d turned eighteen a few weeks before, and was full of a fiery sense of independence. He’d never acted on it, but his crush on her had bloomed last year, when everywhere he went she seemed to pop up. They’d began spending time without Octavia (who was both confusingly smug and jealous upon finding this out) in coffee shops and libraries, and lazy afternoons whilst Octavia was at her part time job at the local Applebee's. When she had him cornered that night, her eyes raking up and down his body, practically screaming want, he knew it was game over.

 

The day that Clarke had disappeared had started off as normal as any day surrounded by their friends could be. He’d woken up in the early hours of the afternoon, where Clarke lay in bed next to him, one leg draped over his, one of his books in her hands. They were in his apartment. It was a Sunday. He could hear his sister playing on the old games console he’d salvaged from a jumble sale in the main room, along with the excited voices of Jasper Jordan and Monty Green. There was no work to get up for, all of his upcoming assignments were completed, and he was in bed next to the girl he loved. Bellamy was a simple man; he couldn’t really ask for more. 

 

It was a lazy day, they lounged around and laughed with their friends, in the late afternoon Raven joined them, squashing into Bellamy and Octavia’s apartment along with her current squeeze, Finn - who Bellamy couldn’t stand - and Bellamy’s close friend Miller. The last guest of the day was Octavia’s boyfriend Lincoln; he was older than his sister and Bellamy had at first been wary, to which Octavia had argued that his age gap with Clarke was pretty much the same. Fair play.

 

Around the evening, Clarke changed, acting fidgety and dismissive of things. He tried to find out what was wrong, but the further he pushed to see if she was okay, the deeper she retreated into herself. She spent most of dinner (a large order of Chinese takeaway) in the bedroom on the phone, speaking in a voice so hushed Bellamy couldn’t make out anything she was saying. No one else seemed to sense something was up.

 

“I think she has a huge exam coming up,” Raven shrugged, sharing some noodles with Finn. “She’s probably stressed. You know how she gets.”

 

When their friends left and Octavia drunkenly fell asleep on the couch, he snuck back into the bedroom. Clarke was asleep too, hair strewn around the pillow as if she’d been tossing and turning from a bad dream. After he got into some pyjama pants, he pulled the covers higher over her, and placed a kiss on her cheek, then her shoulder. She shivered slightly at his touch. Then he fell asleep, thinking no more of it than a bad mood.

 

The next morning she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much for the read loves ! :))

“So.”

 

“Yeah. So.”

 

Raven had her hands clasped around a cup of coffee, as she, Bellamy, Jasper, Monty and Miller sat in the corner of a coffee shop. He’d called an  _ emergency meeting  _ at around 3, and Octavia said she’d come by felt up to it. Everything felt awkward. It was like Clarke’s arrival had flipped a switch on their interactions. The days and months (hell, years) had been hard enough, working through their issues with Clarke’s absence and figuring out their new dynamics.

 

He could tell Jasper was bursting. He probably had lots of questions, and assumed Bellamy had the answers to them. The reality was radio silence; it was getting harder and harder to think about where she’d been now that she was back. Before, he could soften it all with the idea that he’d never see her again, it’d never matter, and it was over. Now the band aid he’d placed over his problems and issues had been ripped clean off by her appearance.

 

“Before you say anything at  _ all _ , no.” Bellamy eyed Jasper.

 

Jasper looked offended, holding a hand over his chest. “I didn’t say anything!”

 

“You didn’t need to.” He mumbled.

 

“Has she said anything Bellamy? Anything at all?” Raven was trying to maintain a calm demeanor, but he knew it was just as hard for her.

 

Bellamy stared down at his own coffee. It had gone cold.

 

“I haven’t really been pushing her.” He admitted, hating the way that he had become responsible for the communication between Clarke and the rest of the group.

 

More silence. He didn’t have the answers they wanted, and the thought of getting them both terrified and infuriated Bellamy. What if she told him things he didn’t want to hear? What if she’d been hurt? What if she had got in trouble? Why couldn’t she have confides in him?

 

What if she’d fallen out of love with him?

 

He sure as hell hadn’t stopped loving her. Seeing her last night was enough to tell him that. It hurt like  _ shit _ .

 

“I’ve been running theories through my mind as to why she’d come back now. Money, trouble, boredom, loneliness… I can’t put the pieces together because I don’t have the whole puzzle. And I really want to hate her, but seeing her in that condition last night made it so fucking hard.” Raven’s sudden confession made Bellamy’s heartache, because he knew what she meant. He placed a comforting hand over her knee, offering her a smile he knew couldn’t fix anything. A sudden vibration in his pocket made him jump.

 

**Octavia** :  _ Clarke still here, but u should probably come home ASAP _

 

“Ah, fuck.” He muttered, shoving his phone back into his back pocket. “I gotta go, I promise I’ll keep you all updated. I’m sorry.”

 

Back at the apartment, his sister was stood in the doorway to the bathroom, and Bellamy could hear retching. A glass of water had been knocked over by the couch, soaking it, and an untouched bowl of pasta sat next to it. He rushed over, filled with panic and unease.

 

“She wouldn’t eat anything I offered or made her,” Octavia huffed, crouching down to rub Clarke’s back as she hunched over the toilet seat. “Then she said she was starting to feel sick and, well... she was.”

 

Bellamy squeezed past his sister to bend down next to the blonde, whose hair had been kindly tied back into a bun. She was still wearing his old shirt, and he made a mental note to grab some more for her to borrow. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was swaying slightly.

 

“Clarke, what do you need?” He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

Then she began to cry. The tears came hard, heavy and gasping. Bellamy felt as if someone was pinching his heart, and found himself trying to soothe her with gentle rubs of his thumb on her back. Once it seemed she’d stop throwing up for now, Octavia went to grab a glass of water. Bellamy ran a towel under the tap and used it to clean her face, but she still seemed to refuse to open her eyes. One touch against her skin and Bellamy could feel the heat radiating off of her.

 

“You’re burning up, princess.” He sighed, wetting the towel with some colder water.

 

“I’m so embarrassed.” She choked out. “I feel pathetic.”

 

“No, you’re sick. You need rest.” Bellamy reasoned, drying her face. He got her steady against the bathroom wall before sweeping Clarke off her feet and into his arms. He carried her through to his bedroom, and lay her on the bed with the covers placed loosely over her. Warily, he sat beside her, head against the headboard.  _ You’re getting too close _ , his mind warned him. “You might have a fever, or hypothermia. How long were you out in the rain last night?”

 

She prized open her eyes, fixing them on Bellamy. “I walked from the bus station to here.”

 

_ The bus station? _ “Clarke, that’s like, just four miles from here.” he frowned worriedly, but she managed a smile, shaking her head.

 

“I was determined.”

 

“You were stupid.” she tried to laugh at that, but ended up spinning into a coughing fit. “Now you need to sleep. And drink  _ lots  _ of water.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Yes, sir.” She was gaining confidence, acting the same way she used to around him. Bellamy couldn’t work out how he felt about it. Part of him believed he couldn’t just allow her to walk back in like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t broken his heart. The other part wanted so desperately to lean down and plant a kiss on her cheek, feel the close contact, savour her for as long as she decided to stick around this time.

 

He settled on stroking the hair back from her face, fingers lingering on her temple. She didn’t resist, in fact she closed her eyes; ready to drift off into sleep in his hands. _His_ care. Bellamy almost could’ve fallen asleep right there too, right next to her.

Almost.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The first time Bellamy told Clarke he loved her was during a fight. Typical, right? They'd been dating for about six months, but because of the length of time they'd been friends, it felt like longer. He already knew he loved her; it was one of the things he was certain of. When she woke him up by watching stupid cat videos in the morning, he knew he loved her. When she danced around the apartment at four in the afternoon, in onesie pajamas, he knew he loved her. When she humored him with day trips to museums in nearby cities, he knew he loved her. When she kissed his cheek, nuzzled into his neck, laughed breathlessly against his ear, or cried into his shoulder, he knew. 

 

They were arguing about Clarke’s future. Clarke was at med school, but it wasn't rocket science to see that her heart wasn't in it. (“And I know rocket science.” To quote Raven Reyes.) Bellamy was trying to get her to see that too, but she was blind with years of conditioning from her mother, Abby, about going to med school and following her mother’s footsteps. Bellamy never saw Clarke so at ease and at peace than when she was at an easel, paintbrush in hand.

 

“It’s just a hobby, Bell. You now, those things people do in their spare time? Drinking at the bar with your friends doesn't exactly count as one, by the way.” she snapped.

 

He felt like tearing his hair out. “I'm not going to deepen this fight with you by asking “what's that supposed to mean”, when I know you're just upset and frustrated. But listen, Clarke. I'm trying to help you, I’m-”

 

“You're trying to control my life! Just like everyone else!” 

 

“No,” Bellamy took a step closer to her, and she didn't resist when he held her arms in place. “I promise, I would never do that. I just can't stand seeing you unhappy! All I want is for you to live your best, most satisfied life. I love you so much, and it frustrates me to see you not following the dreams I know you have. Forget Abby! If you do that, and you still want to do med school, I'll support you. I’ll support you through anything.”

 

Clarke was silent, and the smile she was trying to suppress made him frown. The fight had disappeared from her into ease.

 

“Did I say something funny?” he questioned, trying not to feel offended.

 

“I love you too.” was all she said as she grinned, reaching up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his jaw. 

 

Bellamy’s frown deepened. “I didn't-did I-what? What? Oh, shit.” His hands dropped from her arms, whilst Clarke laughed through an uncontrollable smile. “Fuck. You love me?”

 

“More than med school.” she teased.

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, pulling Clarke back into his personal space. “So not much.”

 

Clarke shrugged, “Okay, more than… more than hot Cheetos. And blueberry pancakes. And the feeling you get on Christmas morning. And more than that t-shirt Octavia got me for my birthday.” 

 

Bellamy sighed, bringing her close against his chest. “And you really love that t-shirt.”

 

“Mhm, I do.” she hummed, staring up at him like he put the sun in the sky.

 

He reached for her lips, and she met him eagerly, arms linking around his neck to grip onto his hair. Neither of them could get close enough to each other, at least not with all their clothes on.

 

Now, Bellamy lay on the couch. The blanket he'd scavenged to keep him warm didn't really suffice, but he couldn't sleep anyway. Memories like these replayed in his head like the forgotten life of someone he had once known, like an old friend. There was a sense of detachment from these events, as if they were no longer real.

 

His phone read two in the morning. It was tempting to make food to distract himself, but he knew Octavia would wake up when she smelt it, like a bloodhound. He closed his eyes, shuffling as deep into the crease of the couch as he cold for warmth, when he heard a bedroom door open.

 

The sound of feet travelled from the doorway to into the main room, until Bellamy could sense someone next to the couch. He rolled over, and found himself staring up at Clarke huddled in the duvet, wrapped up like a burrito. She was looking at him like she was ashamed, acting sheepish and shy.

 

Without really thinking about it, the memory of her kiss still lingering on his mind, he pulled her down gently onto the sliver of space next to him on the couch. She shared the duvet with him, huddling into his warmth as she got comfortable. Neither of them had the words to say. Bellamy felt like he was holding his breath.

 

Clarke seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly, chest rising and falling steadily next to him. Cautiously, he traced his fingers along the side of her arm and shoulder, tracing patterns in another one of his old t-shirts. How can this be real? Can everything really go back to how it was? 

 

The short answer was no, as he was soon to find out the next morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Bellamy thought the loud banging was just part of his dreams for a solid few minutes. The louder and faster it grew, the more uncertain he became. Octavia bursting out of her room with a baseball bat was enough to alert him this was in fact reality. He dragged himself back to full consciousness when she appeared, almost finding Octavia’s defensive stance humorous.

 

“Bell, get the door.” she demanded, wielding the bat like a sword.

 

“Put the bat down, O, please.” he pleaded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He threw the covers off himself, and that was when he noticed her absence. Clarke was no longer next to him on the couch. Scrambling in a panic that concerned Octavia, he skidded to his bedroom and threw open the door, only to awaken and startle a sleeping Clarke. Had it been all been a dream? It couldn’t have.

 

Bellamy’s head pounded. She stared at him soundlessly, eyes flitting to the hallway as the banging on the front door persisted.

 

He charged back out, not bothering to throw on a shirt, and pulled open the door abruptly. A tall, bearded man stood on the doorstep of the apartment, plastered with tattoos and with a stern, unyielding look on his face. He was the image of a stereotypical brute biker - perhaps a member of a gang - and he was definitely intimidating.

 

“What?” Bellamy spat. He could sense Octavia just behind him, still clutching the bat.

 

“I need to speak to Clarke.”

 

“Clarke?” the Blake siblings repeated incredulously, Octavia poking her head around Bellamy’s body to see the stranger clearer. How could anyone have known she was here except their friends?

 

Bellamy was just about to tell the man to fuck off, when he heard a “Bellamy, wait,” from behind him. Clarke was walking towards them, looking determined and stony faced. “Leave.” She demanded of the stranger, moving to stand in front of Bellamy as to get in the mans face.

 

“You must come back with me, now.” the man instructed, turning away as if just expecting Clarke to follow. She stood her ground.

 

“I'm not going back, Roan. Now, leave.”

 

Bellamy didn't think he'd ever seen her like this. It was scary.

 

“This isn't what Lexa would have wanted, Clarke.” he snarled, turning back around.

 

“Lexa’s dead. And I’d be too, if I hadn't left. You should consider doing the same. Now get the fuck away from me before I call the cops.”

 

The stranger gave Clarke one more glaring look, before storming away. The three of them stood frozen in the doorway long after he'd left, and they heard the faint sound of a motorbikes engine revving. Even Octavia didn't have anything to say; no snarky remarks or sarcastic comments.

 

“Clarke, are you-” he whipped around to see her after he closed the door, but she held out her hand as a way of cutting him off.

 

“I'm fine.” But she didn't sound fine. The fierce demeanor they'd seen mere minutes ago had crumbled, revealed to have been a facade. Her face was deathly pale, and Bellamy could've sworn she was shaking. “Really.”

 

“Stop lying, Clarke. Please.” There was no anger in his voice as he pleaded with her, reaching out his hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. He felt a strange sense of pity; pity for Clarke, and exhaustion for this whole ordeal.

 

Clarke pulled away gently wandered over to the couch carefully sitting herself down with her hands folded in her lap. Bellamy took a seat on the other end, leaving a space between them, whilst Octavia stood by the TV looking restless.

 

“It's-it's a long story.” she sighed, meeting Bellamy’s eyes truthfully and honestly.

 

“We have time.” Octavia shrugged. “We’re not going anywhere.”

 

The blonde nodded absently. She broke his gaze, going back to fiddling with her hands.

 

“My father died.”

 

The Blake siblings were silent, as Bellamy recalled meeting Clarke’s dad several times during the time he knew her. He had seemed a reasonable man to Clarke, a better father figure than he and Octavia had ever had. The loss of this man from her life had never been mentioned to Bellamy. He frowned, and Octavia had a similar look of sadness and confusion on her face.

 

“I’m so sorry-” he began, but she wasn't finished.

 

“He was murdered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm British but I type in American lexis because for some reason Word on my computer autocorrects everything to the American way to spell things and I'm lazy , so if I ever flit between the different ways of spelling that's why lmao


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY DID NOT INTEND FOR THERE TO BE THIS MUCH PLOT BUT WHOOP THERE IT IS I GOT A BIT CARRIED AWAY this was just meant to be ~angst~ and now it's ~angst with plot~ what can u do eh

“The day I left... here, my father was killed. I couldn't say anything, I could hardly even process it. My mom called me, she was obviously upset, but something was off. She strictly instructed that I shouldn’t utter a word about it to anyone. Of course, she’d say that - it was her fault. She warned me my life was in danger too, and I should leave as soon as possible. If I said anything to you or any of our friends, I was worried I’d endanger you all too. So I left in silence, headed for home, and found Hell waiting for me.

 

“I’d known for a while that my mother was caught up in something dodgy. I wouldn't have thought for even a minute that it was a cult. They were called the Second Dawn. When I got to my parents house, there was a swarm of strangers waiting for me, and they were claustrophobically friendly and euphoric. My mom went on and on about how this was how we would be safe, but they were all brainwashed. All of them. They were like zombies, and I was terrified. My mom was already one of them, glassy eyed and acting as if her husband hadn't just been shot in broad daylight, on our own estate. She wanted me to join, to undergo some procedure and become just like they were. _Enlightened_ , they said. Free in the “ _City of Light_ ”, whatever that bullshit means. The leader was a man I’d met several times before when because he used to visit our house. He was my moms boss. He sat on our couch, drank witg us, laughed with my parents and invited them over for tea; and he _murdered_ my father. I-I don’t have concrete evidence of this. Not that the authorities would believe me, but their leader, Jaha, basically _admitted_ it to me, explaining that my dad was weak.”

 

Clarke seemed exhausted already, but Bellamy could tell the story was far from over. It felt like he was watching an episode of a TV show. This kind of thing didn’t happen to people normally, this wasn’t normal. Nor was this anywhere close to any of the theories he’d imagine to explain away her disappearance.

 

“I escaped as soon as I could, packed my bag again and got the first bus to the furthest away for the money I had. I was still grief stricken and horrified, confused and lost. It felt like I’d lost both my parents - I had. I couldn't handle it. Once I got off the bus, I used my savings to rent a shitty flat, and got a job. I basically started over. A new life, a new job, a new surname. Every day I mourned my parents, and… and you, Bell. How could I go back and put you in the danger I’d be thrown into? You were safer not knowing. Safer and better off with me not in your life.”

 

_That’s not true._

 

“It wasn't long before the Second Dawn caught up with me. Well, not them exactly. After a few months I was contacted by a group who said they new about the Second Dawn, and were trying to take them down. They wanted me to join, considering I'd already been exposed to them, and because my mom was in deep with them I guess they figured I’d provide inside knowledge. This retaliation group called themselves the Grounders. Grounded in reality, in the Earth, in their morals, unlike the Second Dawn. Lexa was their leader.

 

“Working and fighting alongside them was… freeing. I was respected, trusted, protected. And I grew strong. Not just physically, but mentally. It felt like I was putting my life back together. For a long time, it was good. But I should've known better, because of course the Grounders had their own agenda too. They were no better. They were more violent and more impulsive. They were dangerous. By this point, I was Lexa’s “second”.”

 

Bellamy had been listening intently, finding it hard to process so much information. _Where was I? Why not come back for_ me _?_

 

“I… I-I loved her. Lexa.” Clarke admitted suddenly, and Bellamy felt like he'd been punched in the gut. “I really did. For a long time, she was all I had. But everything went to shit about two months ago. The Grounders had a plan to infiltrate and take down the Second Dawn, and it got her _killed_. It was like everything I'd felt when my father died that I’d spent so long burying under vengeance and anger and power exploded inside of me again, but worse. It was so fucked, but as soon as she died the Grounders assumed I would take over as their leader. I was one of them. I’d lost everything and escaped my old life to avoid a cult and ended up joining one anyway.

 

“Of course, I wanted nothing to do with any of them. I was going crazy, I wasn't eating or sleeping or taking care of myself and everyone was counting on me for some crazy plan to bring down more crazy people. So I took off, again,” she let out a low laugh, “Ironic. Seems I’m always running. Roan, the guy who visited, is just evidence that I still haven't fully escaped their clutches. I don't even know how they found me. But now I've brought exactly what I didn't want anywhere near you guys, here. To you. I’ve fucked up, Bell. _I'm_ fucked up.”

 

Shockingly, she didn’t cry. Bellamy could only imagine the amount of emotions she’d already exerted over the past three years through this strife. Having little to no tears left didn’t shock him. Octavia jumped off the couch so suddenly the Clarke flinched, but was soon enveloped in a hug from the brunette. Slowly, Clarke relaxed into it, twisting to wrap her arms around her high school friend. She buried her head in Octavia’s neck, neither of them talking.

 

“You’re not fucked up, Clarke. This world is fucked up. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself, but just know, that I’m here. We’re here. We always will be.” That was what Bellamy could manage to say to her. His mind was still whirring with _cults_ and _murder_ and panic.

 

He moved over to sit beside her, “Clarke, look at me.” She looked so sad, so guilty and unforgiving of herself. _We can figure this out. I'm not losing her again._

 

“I'm glad you're here.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the kind words guys ! really means a lot and makes my day:))


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who’s back back again  
> italics are flashbacks!!!

_“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Clarke, happy birthday to you!”_

 

_“Hip hip! Hooray!” Jasper hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth and earning a soft punch from Raven. Clarke stared at the flickering candles of her birthday cake, Bellamy at her side, his hand on her shoulder. After a second, she blew them out, managing them in one go, and their friends cheered._

 

_It was a small gathering. Clarke had been adamant that they didn’t organise anything big, much to Octavia’s disappointment. If she had her way, she would’ve thrown a huge surprise party. She had tried that once before; Clarke had refused to even entire the house, too embarrassed under all the attention. No, close friends and cake and wine were all she needed to have a good time. Bellamy couldn’t complain, the less people, the more he had her to himself._

 

_He helped her cut the cake as Jasper tried to rope people into a game of ring of fire, resulting in a Mexican wave of eye rolls and groans. They’d gathered in a circle by the couch and TV, laughing and chatting drunkenly._

 

_“You okay?”_

 

_“Hm?” Clarke looked up at him, a dazed but happy expression on her face. She’d been staring absently at their friends as she slowly divided up the pieces._

 

_“You just seem a bit… out of it.”_

 

_She shook her head, “I can’t believe I’m 20.”_

 

_Bellamy raised a brow, “Try being 23.”_

 

_“Yeah, you’re an old man. Practically a fossil.” She teased, tilting her face to press a kiss against his cheek._

 

_Bellamy slipped his hand onto her thigh under the table, messing around with the hem of the dress Octavia had convinced her to wear. He rubbed small circles in the soft of her skin, causing Clarke’s mouth to slip into a smile she couldn’t repress._

 

_“Bell,” she warned in a murmur, slipping the slices of cake onto plates._

 

_“What? I haven’t given you your present yet.”_

 

 _Clarke laughed, “Yeah, you did.” Bellamy didn’t have much money to spare most months; working hard hours at a bar with minimum wage pay only went so far when he had to think of himself and Octavia. For her birthday, he’d forked out the money to print off a bunch of photos of them, good memories of them and their friends, and made a photo album. It was cliche, in a way that Clarke adored, for its sentimentality. His handwriting was barely legible but he’d described the memory on each page, and its importance to him. She had enough necklaces and rings and perfume,_ “I only have one you,” _she’d grinned, and Bellamy wondered how much more in love he could get._

 

_“Can’t I give my girlfriend more than one present?” His lips found their way to to her neck, peppering small kisses. Clarke squirmed, well aware that their friends were only a few feet away. It looked like they’d gotten out Cards Against Humanity._

 

_She stood up abruptly and called out, “Cake’s ready, I have to attend to something,” before hurriedly dragging Bellamy by the hand to the back of the apartment where his bedroom was. She could hear the laughter from their friends behind them as she slammed the door, and he pulled her down onto the bed._

 

_He had her straddled in his lap, one hand on her waist and the other gripping her hair. His lips reached every inch of skin on her face, trailing down her chin and neck to press kisses to her collarbones. She let out his name as a whisper, moving her hand to palm his crotch. Bellamy suddenly gripped her shoulders and pushed her down onto her back, keeping up the kisses across her skin._

 

_She smelt faintly of the cocoa butter she’d started using. When he reached her midriff, he ushered off her tshirt. “Happy birthday to you,” Bellamy mumbled against the soft of her flesh, “happy birthday to you.” Clarke tried to suppress a giggle as the stubble on his face tickled her stomach, and he moved further down her body._

 

_A kiss on her left thigh. A kiss on her right. “Happy birthday to Clarke,” Bellamy attempted to sing, but his voice cracked and Clarke snorted. Her laughter was stifled by Bellamy using one hand to pull down her underwear, and another to stroke her clit gently. “Happy birthday to you.”_

 

_The blonde groaned, grasping for Bellamy’s thick, curly locks to grip onto as he went down on her, knowing just the right movements by now to get Clarke off how she liked. He felt like he could map her body as easily as the roads of his hometown where he grew up. Every inch, every crevice, every birthmark and scar was familiar to him._

 

At least he’d thought so.

 

After the revelations of Clarke’s whereabouts from the past few years, she went to have a shower. She appeared a half hour later, in one of Octavia’s tank tops, and a pair of jeans that she must’ve borrowed from O as well. Bellamy’s eyes fell in shock to her arms. There was a long, red scar across her left shoulder blade, now healed but still aggressive looking. He could make out what looked like a burn on her right shoulder. Other, smaller scars and marked littered her body, ones he’d never seen before and hurt him to think about where they’d come from.

 

She noticed him staring. Self consciously, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the ground. As if they had some psychic connection, Octavia emerged from the bedroom clutching an old flannel that she handed to Clarke to shrug on, covering up her skin.

 

“Let’s watch some TV, huh?” O suggested, putting on a smile for the two of them. Throwing herself onto the couch, Octavia flicked to Jersey Shore with little hesitation. Bellamy rolled his eyes, and looked to Clarke to see her already looking at him, a meek smile appearing on her lips.

 

“Yeah,” he smiled at his hands, walking over to take a seat, “sounds good.”

 

Clarke eventually joined them, settling herself so that Bellamy was in between her and Octavia. She curled up against the arm rest, tucking her legs close to her chest. Bellamy liked that she smelt of their home wearing Octavia’s clothes; of their washing detergent. He was willing himself to believe that slowly, she was coming back to him. As the drama on the TV escalated to ridiculous, made-for-entertainment purposes, Bellamy could sense Clarke easing up. Her body relaxed, she spread out looser on the sofa beside him, her hand just inches from his own. It felt like he was a teenager again, debating making the first move.

 

Maybe she _was_ coming back to him. Bellamy was willing to be patient even if this was all he had for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW CAN U BELIEVE WE GOT LIKE 0.5 SECS OF BELLARKE IN THAT S5 TRAILER WOW I BEEN DONE DIRTY RIP


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mad that i updated last when the s5 trailer dropped and i had a smidge of hope and now s5 is over and my hope has been officially obliterated but here i am

“Oh, come  _ on _ !” Octavia cried rising from her seat and pointing at the TV. “Is she dumb? Am I going mad or was that dumb? Why would she take him back!?”

 

His sister looked incredulously at the pair on the couch, hands raised in frustration.

 

The corners of Clarke’s mouth tugged into the smallest of smiles. “It  _ was  _ kinda dumb.”

 

Bellamy felt exasperated. “How can you buy into this too?” he sighed, raising his brow at Clarke who’s lips spread wider. Octavia was still raving at the TV, too fully invested in the staged lives of reality stars. She really needed a hobby.

 

Sitting beside Clarke was as ordinary as pouring cereal on your milk, or it had been before she’d disappeared. Now, Bellamy savoured every moment he found himself in her company or by her side. She was wearing clothes that Octavia had taken her out to buy, and Bellamy felt faintly guilty for missing the sight of her in his tshirts and shorts. 

 

Tonight was pizza night, and the gang were coming over. Reassuring Clarke that her old friends  _ did  _ want to see her had taken some time and a lot of patience, and Bellamy prayed that it would be worth it. Jasper had been hassling Bellamy with texts about her since their little coffee shop meeting, and he was inches away from blocking his number to achieve peace. 

 

The routine was ordering more pizza than they could all finish, watching a shitty straight-to-DVD movie, drinking until they were tipsy, and then possibly going out. If they went out it was usually to one of the few clubs in their local area, where everyone knew everyone and drink choice was limited. But it was  _ fun _ . Clumsy, lighthearted and freeing fun, which was in short supply at the moment.

 

Bellamy wasn’t sure Clarke was up for all of that, and so had pre-warned the guys not to put pressure on her by bringing it up too much.

 

Raven arrived first, opting to sit on the couch and watch Octavia’s drivel, close to Clarke but not starting any conversation. Miller turned up next beside Harper, armed with a selection of drinks. When Jasper and Monty finally showed up, half an hour late as per, they were clutching several DVDs that Bellamy had never heard of.  

 

“So, we have ‘Snakes on a Train’, ‘Atlantic Rim’, ‘Super Shark’, and ‘The Hungover Games’.” Jasper announced, throwing the DVDs onto the coffee table. “Choose your weapon, ladies and gentlemen.” 

 

“Those sound particularly worse than usual, Jordan.” Raven sighed, throwing her head back.

 

Octavia had torn her eyes away from the TV to browse the takeaway pizza menu, even though they all always got the  _ same  _ thing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth when he noticed Clarke’s subtle way of trying to join in with them all. She was peeking over O’s shoulder, reading the menu; she was smiling at Jasper’s dumb jokes and Monty’s eye rolling, and paying keen attention to what Raven and Harper were saying. Despite being silent Clarke was  _ trying _ , and that was all Bellamy could hope for.

 

They settled on ‘Snakes on a Train’, but Bellamy would have failed any kind of quiz about it when it’d finished. He knew Clarke didn’t need minding like a child, he wasn’t going to patronise her. Throwing her into this social situation just had him on edge. Admittedly, not just that had him distracted. Bellamy saw her smiling with their friends and thought  _ home _ . She looked beautiful, regardless of the dark circles under her eyes, and more so because he’d fucking missed her.

 

Licking tomato sauce from his fingers, Jasper demanded the attention of the group after they’d demolished their pizza. “So, where tonight, gang? The club on 42nd? What about the new gay club! Oh, oh, oh, or the place we went a few weeks back that had that blue drink with the-”

 

Bellamy threw Jasper a stern faced look that stopped him in his tracks. 

 

“Or we could stay home?” he backtracked.

 

“I’d like to go out.”

 

The gang fell silent. Clarke was wringing her hands anxiously, looking at Bellamy with a kind of hopefulness that was infectious. He nodded at her with a smile too big for his face, “anywhere in particular?”

 

Clarke shrugged, “wherever everyone else wants is fine.”

 

Raven’s hand shot up. “I vote Lazy Lizard. Luna and I went there the other day and one of the bartenders was sculpted by the gods. I would very much like to see him again.”

 

Everyone else nodded, up for anything and buzzing with a strange kind of energy. Raven held her hand out to Clarke after she’d stood up, throwing her a smile. “I brought  some spare clothes with me in case of an outfit change. Wanna have a look through?”

 

The corners of her mouth were tugged into a sheepish and appreciative smile, and Clarke accepted her old best friend’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy saw Octavia give him a side eyed look. 

 

Progress. 


End file.
